


The Six Times You Fucked A Skeleton & The Consequent Times You Loved Him

by infinitrinx



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Angst, Biting, Blindfolds, Blood Kink, Blowjobs, Bondage, Brothels, Collars, Cussing, Daddy Kink, Drug-Induced Sex, Dubious Consent, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), F/M, Fellatio, Forced Monster Heat, From Sex to Love, Gags, I'm just reading the tags and realising how much I've sinned, Masochism, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Assault, Porn With Plot, Powerplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader has a green SOUL, Reader is DFAB and female, Sex Work, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, She/her pronouns used, SlaveTale, Smut, Underfell Sans, Undertail, but sexuality not specified, haha geddit? Fell? haha i'm so funny, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8905588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitrinx/pseuds/infinitrinx
Summary: Smutfic about Underfell!Sans and policewoman reader. Sans sold himself into the sex industry, only to have shit go far worse than he anticipated. You are a policewoman, undercover in the black market sex industry to find people unwillingly forced into the trade and break them out.You'd think this would be a simple matter of catch and release.That's not the case.-This fic is smut heavy. It does have a lot of plot occurring in the background but the fic focuses more on the smut elements.





	1. The First Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Absinthe and Ecstasy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745270) by [ViciousFlame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousFlame/pseuds/ViciousFlame). 



> Hello you dirty sinners! Name's Trin.  
> When I get writer's block, I write smut. This is the result of me getting stuck on Stature which you can read right here (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8312125/chapters/19034542). I'm so sorry to my Stature readers, I'm trying but WORDS ARE NOT COOPERATING!!
> 
> This work is inspired by Absinthe and Ecstasy by ViciousFlame and I 11/10 recommend reading that. It's guaranteed to make you feel FEELINGS. This story is kind of a more smut heavy, Underfell version of the situation in A&E.
> 
> Please be aware that this fic has a lot of potentially triggering stuff, as shown in the tags. If you are triggered by sexual assault, sexual abuse, rape, non-consensual drug use or sex slavery, please, please do not read this fic. As is the routine with our favourite Edgelord, there will be a lot of swearing and violent language. If that squicks you, don't read this either. 
> 
> Find me on...  
> tumblr: @infintrinx  
> insta: @infinitrinx  
> snapchat: @infinitrinxx  
> facebook: Trinity Fay (cosplay stuff)

Sweat, sex and Victoria Secret’s cheapest perfume. The establishment was permeated with the mingling scent, draped in the atmosphere like the sheer fabrics of the workers there but lingering like a cigarette’s aftertaste. From the moment you stepped in, your status as human demoted itself to money source. Idle escorts eyed you through lidded eyes; baiting sensuality on the hook of beckoning fingers.

You walked past temptation, attention roaming. You had a job to do.

A gaggle of men dangled cigars between yellow stained teeth, chortling over sloshing beer. One of the men appeared to be leading the conversation (see: getting sucked up to). His chocolate locks were peppered with grey, crusted and shiny from an excess of hair products. He was squeezed into a black dress shirt, unbuttoned to showcase an admittedly impressive, if obscene, amount of chest hair. A lone gold chain was almost swallowed up by the forest of his chest. He appeared to have a silver tooth. At the moment, the man was pimping two ladies on each arm, coping a feel every now and then.   
Ryan Yan. You’d read his case file. Only son, bachelor, drug dealer, prime smuggler and next in line for ownership over this establishment. He was practically the prince of shady dealings. Everyone knew he was the mastermind behind most of Ebott’s crimes. But somehow, no solid evidence could be linked back to him. It was as infuriating as it was admirable.

He wasn’t what you were here for. You moved on, sauntering interest and desire as you allowed your gaze to roam. You were glad to recognise most of the workers there as freelance escorts. There was a huddle of ladies who appeared to be hunched in on themselves, hands to elbows, backs to wall. Nervous and/or anxious body language. You made a mental note to check them out. But there, at the far end of the decently sized lobby was your main focus for today because honestly,  _ what the fuck _ .

At first, you thought it might have been a weird, distasteful decoration. But then it moved and you’ve seen some fucked up shit in all your years of service but this takes the cake oh god. It was a living skeleton, bound, gagged and blindfolded on the floor. A collar around it’s neck tethered it to a nearby chair leg where an admittedly very attractive woman was filing her nails. She blew daintily at the surface of her ring finger, velvet red lips pursed with casual abandon as though at her feet wasn’t a monster keening and panting and squirming and sweating and oh my fucking god.

You approached, stamping down your disgust to rake your curious eyes down the monster’s kneeling form. It’s hands were bound behind it’s back, rope chaffing and twining around and through the bones of it’s arms. Standard grey duct tape wrapped once around it’s skull while a floral handkerchief tied itself around it’s sockets. It’s ribcage was heaving, bones flushed faintly red at the cheeks. Could skeletons blush? Apparently. Well, the blush was hardly the strangest thing about the monster. It had a dick. Do skeletons have dicks? Yes, apparently. Hard, erect and glowing red, the erection seemed to be suspended very slightly above the bone, red fading away the closer to the pelvis. The monster began growling from behind the gag, thrashing slightly wilder.

“You interested, darling?” The woman purred, twirling her silver nail file over and under her fingers, flitting into existence in the spaces between them. Her teeth were really white.   
“How much for a night?” You weren’t sure if you could do much, considering how the human law doesn’t extend to monsters. Doesn’t mean you’re not going to try though.   
“Mm…” She eyed your form, taking in every bit of exposed flesh you bared, “I’d usually ask for higher, but for an attractive babe like you… Two hundred.”

You pulled out your wallet to rifle through crumpled bills.   
“Any time limit?” You asked, handing over the cash. She licked the pad of her thumb before counting.   
“Just bring him down when you’re done.” She slipped the bills into the pocket of her suit jacket, voice growing sultry, “And if you’re up for more, maybe we can have some fun.”   
You gulped, forcing out a smirk.   
“We’ll see, Miss…?”   
“Eddler. Or you can call me  _ Mistress _ Eddler if you want.” She winked a perfectly winged eye, untangling the skeleton’s leash from her chair.

You weren’t dumb. That was probably a psuedynom. Still, it might be a known name in the industry. Might make her easier to track down after.

She slipped the leash into your palm, dragging the tips of her fingers down your clammy skin.   
“Have fun, darling.” She pressed a chaste kiss under your right eye, “Be careful not to untie him… Unless you like it rough.”

-

You knew the drill. This wasn’t your first undercover job. That didn’t mean you ever got used to the rising nausea every time you walked someone to a room. It was a sickening kind of guilt, a deprecating kind of sour that the person you were walking with thought you were going to…

It’s like that one level higher than pins and needles when even the radio static in your nerves go silent. Your affected limb feels like rubber, thick, heavy and useless. And you can move it, see it moving, but you don’t exactly feel it moving- not really. Like if you pinch said dead flesh, you can sort of, almost feel it but… not really. You knew you were doing something good, that you were only trying to help. But that didn’t mean you knew it- not really. You still felt… dirty. You felt falsely accused, as though you were a scapegoat when the only one accusing anyone of anything is yourself. To be one’s own scapegoat is a strange kind of mental torture.

The monster stumbled behind you blindly, legs almost giving out from under him several times. You kept him on a short leash, afraid he might fall. Glancing around to make sure no one was around, you carried him up the last flight of stairs, hurrying into the room. You can’t have your cover blown or every unfortunate soul here would be damned.

He was panting, and continued to squirm in your grip, seeming to nuzzle into your body. You set him down on the stained mattress as carefully as you could.    
“Hey, can you understand me?” You asked, gripping his trembling shoulders firmly. The monster made a strange noise halfway between a whine and a growl, bucking his hips into the mattress below him. You shook him slightly, tapping the side of his face with flattened fingers.   
“Hey, hey. Can you hear me?” He froze, as though just registering your voice. Ok, good.   
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The monster snorted through his nasal hole.   
_ duh. what am i, an idiot? _ __   
“Come on, give me something to work with here. You understand me, yeah?”   
A nod.   
“Okay. I’m gonna take off all these things, yeah?”

If it was possible, the skeleton got even stiller. You reached behind him to undo the knot, allowing the dainty handkerchief to flutter onto the dirty sheets. The monster blinked up at you, red pupils blown wide in his sockets. He observed you carefully, eyelights shrinking to pinpricks as they adjusted.

“Tape is next. This one’s gonna hurt.” You scratched at his jawline for the beginning of the tape. Finally locating an edge, you began trying to peel it off him. At one point, the tape got problematically stuck, hooking over itself. As you tried to undo the mess, bracing yourself against the monster, you felt eyes on you.

He squirmed, breathing coming hard. You looked down to see his pupils dilated again. Sweat beaded on his skull. Your cleavage was presented directly to his eyelevel. You felt your face grow hot, the sour feeling growing like mould on stale bread.   
“Sorry.” You muttered, putting some distance between yourselves. He chased you with his eyes, shudders increasing in intensity. “I’m just gonna rip it now, yeah?”

Without further warning, or waiting for his acknowledgement, you jerked back and ripped the remaining length of tape off. The monster bit back a stifled cry, sinking into himself, panting growing deeper.   
“Sorry. You okay?”

A tense moment passed where you waited for his response. Then he looked up at you, eyes bright, bright red and shark-like teeth parted (huh, would you look at that, he had a gold tooth). He growled. A deep and gutteral sound like the rumbling of a thunderstorm in a hurricane, the warning of an avalanche on the horizon, of danger at your basest instinct to runrun _ run _ .

You held your ground, chin held high, even if your heart stuttered a over a beat like missing a step at the bottom of the stairs.   
“Excuse me, mister. I just want to help, don’t growl at me.” You managed to sound indignant, moving to begin untying his arms. Thankfully, he stopped growling at you, even if he continued to bare his teeth in a sneer. “I’m a police officer. I’m here to help people who’ve been forced into the industry. I promise you, I mean you no harm.”

Your fingers brushed along the inside of his bones and he shuddered, groaning deeply.   
“Sorry… A-anyway, I’m gonna try my best to get you out of this place, okay?”   
You pulled off the last wind of rope. There were still two more knots, the rope secured through the holes between both of his radius and ulna like two mini nooses.   
“Almost done now.” The monster rolled his shoulders, rubbing his wrists, “What’s your name?”

He stared at you as though looking at you for the first time, both seeing and not. Then another violent shudder rattled his frame and the next thing you know is that he’s pouncing. He grabs at you, forcing you down onto the mattress. He’s panting again, rutting against your leg as he tugs at your underwear from under your skirt.

“Wait, what are you-? Stop!” You flail, trying to kick him away. The monster growls again, the sound raising goosebumps on your skin, then he seizes you by the knees and pries your legs apart. Panic wails in every cell, rising like the tide and you feel like you’re drowning, choking on adrenaline and oxygen.

“Please, stop!” You cried, clutching at the hem of your new party dress. The alcohol in your system was making you woozy. The man you thought was your best friend struck you across your cheek, springing dazzling stars into your vision. “Someone… help…”   
“The music’s loud tonight.”  _ No one can hear you _ was remained unspoken. He pet the top of your head soothingly, a stark contrast to the bruising grip he had on your forearm, “We’re at a party, let’s have some fun.”

“STOP! NO!” You kicked back with all your might, throwing yourself across the room. Your elbow connected hard with the ground, sending unpleasant tingles through the limb. The air knocked out of your lungs with a huff. The monster sat on his hauches on the bed, backed into the opposite wall.    
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You glared back at him, hand against your heart.

“i…” The monster said, voice cracking from disuse. “what the hell is wrong with  _ you _ ?” He shot back, clawed hands digging into the mattress which began to shred slightly. “just do what ya gonna and go away.”

Oh. Okay, you’ve heard of cases like this. You’ve never actually witnessed nor experienced it first hand but you’ve heard coworkers complaining about how difficult these cases were. With victims hurt so repetitively and often, jaded beyond possible repair that rather than accepting aid, they push it away because they don’t trust the prospect of things getting better. It’s sad, and terrible, to be able to break a person so much. He was probably in the mindset of “get it over and done with”. Well, if this job was easy, your training wouldn’t be so rigorous.

“I told you, I’m not going to hurt you. Not now, not ever.” You rose to your feet slowly. He jerked in your direction before stopping himself, twisting his claws into the sheets.   
“don’t… don’t come near me ya bitch.” He choked out between heavy breaths. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his skull. “unless ya wanna be torn to fuckin shreds.”

You took a step forward anyway, raising your hands up in caution. He gulped.   
“fuck off! m’ s-serious.” He shuddered violently, curling in on himself to fist the now tattered sheets. He dragged his claws down either side of his skull, the sound shrill and grating and tearing at your eardrums. Bone on bone was worse than chalk on a blackboard.

Your hands flew up to cover your ears. What the hell  _ is _ wrong with him? You looked at him,  _ really looked _ at him, watching the way his claws retracted and extended into the muddy pink pillow, gouging fluff from it’s cloth. His chest heaved, forehead pressed down into the mattress. Red stained his bones as though he were feverish. And of course, his hips stuttered achingly desperate into the creaking mattress but the sounds that slipped out sounded pained.

“What’s wrong with you…?” You asked again, an actual question this time. The monster let out a frustrated whimper, taking a chunk out of the pillow with his jagged teeth. He shot you a glance, sockets full to the brim with red energy, spitting the sad remains of the cushion from his maw. Then he gulped, burying his face back into the sheets.   
“h-h…” He managed before shaking violently. He took a deep breath. “da bitch gave me somethin’… i-i… mmngh... heat.”

You’ve heard of monster heats before, and how dangerous they can be. It’s not like you’ve met that many monsters. Each species stayed to their own kind in a silent kind of hidden war and whenever there were close interactions, they didn’t always end well. You’ve regulated enough riots to know. But back to the point, you’ve heard of monster heats like one hears about that coffee shop around the corner and how you  _ have to _ try their chocolate cake. Meaning you’ve never tried the chocolate cake and you know literal next to nothing about monster heats. There was a shuffle of gossip a long time ago in the department’s locker room; about a senior officer who had to dust a monster in heat who went on a violent rampage. That was all you knew; that heats made monsters more aggressive than usual. And assuming monster heats worked like animal heats… Ah. Things made sense now.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You watched as his eyes widened and another fit of shivering wracked his frame. “Not! Not like that.” You amended, realising the implications of your earlier statement.

Slowly, warily, you sat down beside him.   
“Are you in pain?” You asked. He huffed what might have been a laugh.   
“might as-- hah!-- might as well be.”

This was wrong. Everything was wrong. What if you were wrong? The lesser of two evils then. You braced yourself.   
“What do you need?”

The monster tensed, joints locking in a second existing between a tick and a tock. You were almost prepared for when he lunged at you again, teeth parted, eyelights too bright.   
“ **touch me.** ” He growled, claws digging into the flesh of your wrist. Blood welled in pools, tickling your skin as red leaked down to your fingertips. He ground himself against your palm, moaning out relief. The more you struggled, the tighter his grip got until you were fearful your wrist might snap under the pressure. But struggling is useless, especially since…   
“...you just need to relax and you’ll enjoy it.” He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you up to press his slimey, beer saturated lips to yours. You threw your head back and forth, away from this, away from him. You sobbed out feeble protests and he…

He threw your wrist away as though burned, digging the heels of his palms into his sockets. The monster shook his head as though clearing awakening from a daze. Then he focused on you, red pinpricks in his sockets accusing.   
“told ya, ya stupid bitch. get the fuck outta my face else ‘m gonna rip ya fuckin throat out.”

You watched as his gaze darted to your bleeding wrist, as he lifted his chin in a sneer. Even as your breath caught in your throat, you thought this was a really weird, off hand way of trying not to hurt you. Getting hurt was part of the job description.   
You raised your hands in the same placating gesture as before. A droplet of blood whispered down your wrist to the tip of your pinky finger. You both watched as it tumbled through the air on a whim, ending on the sheets in a dark brown splat.   
“Let me help you.” You said, reaching for the loose rope dangling from his arms slow enough that he could stop you anytime.   
“i don’t need your useless help.” He didn’t stop you.

Tugging gently on the rope, you led his compliant hands to the headboard, winding the excess rope around and around the post. There was a generous amount of slack, the rope just short enough that his hands were unable to graze your flesh, let alone grip on. You tied the leash to the bed frame in a similar fashion.   
“Is this okay?” You asked, leaning back onto your ankles. The monster gazed back at you through wide blown pupils, a sliver of drool leaking from the edge of his mouth. He swallowed, nodding.

Everything is wrong. You were dirty.   
“Are you sure?”   
The monster thrust his hips up, brushing his dick into your hesitating hand.   
“either do it or get the fuck out.” He leered, rope creaking as he strained.

You gripped the base of the monster’s strange glowing red cock. This close, you realised it was slightly translucent. It was warm, feverishly so, and smooth like glass. He moaned, throwing his head back.   
“ahh, yessss…”

You took a moment too long. He snarled, wiggling his hips having lost control over speech again. You pumped his length once, then twice, rolling your wrist in a way you knew past partners enjoyed. The not-quite-flesh in your hand twitched, pre-cum beading on the tip. The monster keened, absolutely lost to sensation with his head arched back and eyes shut tight.

Finding a rhythm, you tried to wipe your mind blank, pushing down the rising sickness of  **_ohgodwhatthehellamIdoing_ ** . The rope kept creaking, protesting under the strain of desperate twists, of hands clenching and unclenching into fists. Until eventually, unexpectedly, it snapped. The momentum of the skeleton’s pull threw his outstretched hand in your direction. Claws hooked into the flesh of your shoulder, dragging you up and against him. Guilt riled into panic. You froze as he pulled you down, teeth bared, sockets swallowed by red.

He bit you. Jagged teeth latching down into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You screamed a short sharp note, feeling every sharp point of his teeth sinking into your flesh. Struggling, you somehow managed to knock the monster’s head away from you, pinning his arm to the mattress with your knee. The bone was uncomfortable.   
“Don’t.” You asserted, smelling copper in the air. Looking down at yourself, you noted five long gashes on your bicep where you had ripped his hand off of you. Your neck stung in the stale air. 

A tongue, red and translucent as well, slithered out, licking your blood off the points of his teeth. You dug your knee harder into his wrist, trapping his face between your hands.   
“Please.” You forced him to look at you. His eyelights wavered in and out of focus. “ _ Please _ , don’t.”

“it’s ya own f-fault ya got… hurt.” He bit out when he managed to regain a semblance of control. His claws retracted into his bones with a shink. Tentatively, you reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his length. The monster watched you silently, fingers curling at the contact.

Picking up where you left off, you stroked him hard and fast, thumbing the head of his cock every now and then. He continued to stare at you, so much so that the act was almost intimate. You had to look away.

At some point, your leverage on his wrist slipped and his freed hand made to grip you again. Halfway through, he aborted the motion, instead stuffing a fist between his razor teeth. His claws kept sliding out every so often, restrained hand gripping the bedpost so hard you thought the metal might warp. Sweat poured off the skeleton in rivulets, like droplets of rain on ivory.

Your arm muscles were beginning to burn.   
“Are you close?” You asked.   
“ahhn… ahhhhnggh… mmphf…” He said. You took that as a yes.

You managed to keep up your current pace and was rewarded with the monster finally tensing up from under you. The sounds pouring out from his mouth ceasing all at once with his thrashing. His body arched up like his hips were drawn to the ceiling, reaching for relief just a finger’s breadth away. And he came… and came and came. Damn, poor dude.   
“fu-aH…  _ AH!  _ **_ahnngh…_ ** ” He cried, shaking so hard beneath you that you were nearly thrown off. His cum was red, jetting onto his ribs, your cheeks and all over your hand. The lights in his sockets went out like a flame snuffed by the passing wind and he slumped backwards, breathing hard.

Wrinkling your nose, you wiped the stickiness onto the bedsheets turned rags. Looking over at the monster, you noted his eyes were still empty and his breathing still hard. He hadn’t moved.   
“Shit. Hey, hey.” You waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”   
His red pupils flickered back to life as he gasped a sharp intake of air. Scowling, he swat your hand away with his free one.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.   
“Okay. Okay good. Can I untie you?” You asked, already reaching for the rope.   
“i could kill ya. right here, right now.” He slurred, flexing his fingers. You unwound the rope anyways. His breathing began to even out.   
“What’s your name?” You asked. Funny, didn’t you ask that before?   
“what’s it to ya?” He snapped. You began working on releasing his leash, allowing silence to fall between the two of you. It grew steadily heavier, gorging on the tension rolling off the both of you. You knew eventually the weight would get too much to bear and the silence would shatter. The leash fell away from the bed frame and the skeleton sat up.

He glared at you, red eyelights searing, then looked away with a huff.   
“...sans.” He finally said.   
“Sans.” You echoed, feeling Sans’ name on your tongue. Sans; in absence of, without.

Sans cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. You were staring. He tapped his fingers against his knee, drumming bone on bone. The sound reminded you of a galloping horse.   
“aight, so, let’s cut to the chase.” Sans said, fidgeting stopping. He looked you straight in the eyes. “the hell do ya want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” You said, shaking your head, already expecting this.   
“humans always want somethin’.” Sans accused, jabbing a clawed finger at you. Ah yes, the ambition of mankind. What a great blessing and curse. What would be an appropriate response to this?

You thought for a moment, staring down at your calloused hands. Sans waited patiently, apparently satisfied by your silent consideration.   
“I want to get you out of here.” You finally voiced, proud of yourself for coming up with the response.

Sans’ eyes widened, then narrowed. He growled, pushing jagged bared teeth into your personal space. His golden tooth glinted.   
“why? what do you want?” He demanded. You forced your fear down, maintaining a placid mask.   
“It’s more of what I don’t want. I don’t want you to have to go through this.”   
“why?” Sans snatched up the collar of your shirt, shaking you slightly.    
“Because no one should.”

Sans was so close, you could feel his puffs of breath against your face, trace each divot of his skull with your eyes and definitely feel very much intimidated. Years of practice let you stay stoic, meeting his challenging glare, refusing to back down. The moment lasted slightly too long. But then something like confusion fluttered across Sans’ face before being replaced with fury.

“i don’t need your pity.” He growled, wrapping a skeletal hand around your throat. The dull tips of his fingers dug into the vulnerable skin, just enough to induce panic. His claws weren’t out.   
“Then don’t have it.” You retorted, swallowing around his hold.   
“i don’t want your help.” His hold tightened until you couldn’t stop your hands from flying to your neck, the thumping in your chest causing your eyes to widen. He stopped just there, grin pulled up in a smirk.   
“Too… fucking… bad…” You choked out, not trying to pry his hand off yet. If you’ve been reading Sans correctly-

He threw you against the headboard hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs.  **Shit.** You read him wrong. Sans stalked off the bed, dragging his palm over his face.   
“why?!” He roared, after pacing a circuit of the room. He slammed his palms down into the mattress in front of you. “ **WHY??** ”

You glanced at the door, rubbing your neck.   
“Don’t yell. Eddler might catch us.” Your words had immediate effect on Sans. He stiffened, hunching down smaller. Damn you hate that woman.

Sans looked at the door, eyelights burning with hate. Silence. You waited. He sighed, shoulders drooping.   
“ya should head back down soon. she’ll get suspicious.” Sans sat next to you on the bed, offering you his arms, wrists together and you hated it. You hated the rope, the place, the woman but mostly you hated yourself as you gently took his wrists into your lap and looped the rough cord around his ivory bones. It had to be done. A necessary evil.

“Is this okay?” You asked, tying a final knot. Sans opened his mouth as though to say something. His jaw snapped shut with a click and he nodded. Fumbling around the mess of ruined sheets, you found the floral patterned handkerchief and held it up to him. Sans closed his eyes, allowing you to drape the cloth over his skull.

“I’ll be back next week. I promise, I’ll figure something out. I promise.” You said as you secured the cloth behind him. Sans shook his skull sadly.   
“ya make a lot of promises.”   
“I keep a lot of promises.”

You took Sans’ hands in yours, holding the leash up to make sure he won’t trip over it as you led him to the door. Something in the set of his jaw gnawed at your soul.   
“Sans.” You said, resting a hand on his shoulder. He inclined his head towards you. “I  **will** be back next week. Hold on, okay?”   
He grunted what might have been an affirmative and you led him through the doorway by the leash. 

*** SANS 1 ATK 1 DEF** **  
** *** HP 0.2/1** **  
** *** His life is just one long bad time.**


	2. Sin Is Internal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> u succ da d

Despite logic, experience, willpower and want, despite himself and everything he stood for, Sans counted down the days to when your promise would be broken. After what you did, how could he not?

From the moment you touched him, you threw him off kilter, changing the equilibrium of gravity. He could feel the stench of your kindness, your genuine concern ( _ for him?!? _ ) with every contact of your skin. With monsters, intent is everything. And god, when was the last time someone even thought in his direction like that? That was why he knew you weren’t lying when you said you wanted to break him out. 

That was why it was fucking stupid, why you were fucking stupid. Your kindness was, is and always will be absolutely pathetic. He knew you were scared of him. He could feel your fear strongly at times. Still, you insisted on forging ahead. Why? Green souls are always the weakest, the first to die probably because they sacrificed themselves. It’s stupid, weak and why you’d never succeed. Offering kindness is just a sugarcoated way of giving sympathy which has the same meaning as showing pity for and holy hell, Sans did  **not** need anyone’s pity.

He won’t scrounge for scraps or be looked down on. He won’t be useless, won’t be worthless. Whatever the hell he did has consequences he must face alone because  **he** did it.  **He** chose this. Sans didn’t need your help.

He didn’t want your help, even if being touched by you felt like a breath of clean air. Even if the feel of you quenched the fire raging in his bones, stirred some strange feeling hidden in the recesses of his soul. No, he didn’t want to ever see you again. You were dangerous, planting foolish thoughts in his head, overriding years of experience and knowledge with a craving to risk stupid dangerous thoughts.

How dare you. Who the hell did you think you were, strutting into his life and fucking everything up?

Sans felt the accumulation of magic pooling in his left socket, scratching at the inside of his bones to be let out. The heat caged it in, and like a contained explosive, it set off. The magic burst through his bones, crackling need a lightning strike from above. The sensation took a hold of Sans and swept him away, drooling and shivering violently.

Heats are torture, even normally. But whatever the fuck that Eddler bitch gave him made them a living hell. He’d lose himself to overwhelming need, coherent thought a laughable suggestion as his entire being keened in utter desperation to touch, be touched and mark and fuck and kill and claim and bite and thrust and--

Stop. 

What was he thinking about?

You. Right, he was thinking about you. About the curve of your ass and the swell of your bosom. Stars, if he concentrated hard enough, he could still taste the sweetness of your blood which had been the first thing he consumed in months. He thought of the softness of your body and the roughness of your hand pumping away at his erection.

Sans groaned around his gag, rubbing his thighs together in desperation. His magic buzzed restlessly in his bones, drowning out all outside sounds. It surged and struggled, begging and needing some sort of release. Unable to move, unable to see, unable to speak, unable to hear, the sensory deprivation made his painful need the only sensation he could focus on, amplifying it louder and taller and Sans might as well have had the entire Underground collapse on top of him from how he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Death would be kinder than enduring this sheer helpless desperation. If he were dust, he wouldn’t be feeling so oppressively, unbearably hot and needy and  _ hungry _ .

Pain. White-hot pain cut through his haze.   
“Shush.” The bitch hissed. Oh, he had been whimpering again.

Sans felt someone looking at him.   
“Want a go, love?” Eddler purred.   
“How much for a night?” A man asked.

Sans counted down the days.

-

He’d never admit it, but when clients tied him up, Sans would imagine it was you. He thought of the careful, gentle way you bound him (Secure but comfortable, tight but not painful. It was a real pity when some other human undid your handiwork.), the featherlight brushes of your fingertips against his bones and the electricity that danced at each point of contact. 

Sans has been tied up sexually many, many times in his life. Even prior to selling himself to Eddler. Hell, Sans loved being restrained during sex.   
But you, you were the first person to ever look earnestly at him, bottom lip bitten, brows furrowed and ask, “Is this okay?”

It wasn’t even a one time thing. Both times you bound him, you had asked. 

Sans didn’t know what this foreign warm feeling was, bubbling up from his soul like a spring. It was different from the searing burn of his heat the same way his cigarette lighter’s flame was different from the churning of Hotland. Sans didn’t know what to make of that. All he knew was that he liked it that you asked. He hated that he liked it. 

A sharp stabbing pain in his lower spine wrenched him from the depths of his thoughts. The ropes digging into his bones chafed with every thrust. The blindfold was still on, forcing him to focus on the building agony. This time, he was bound at his wrists, neck and lumbar vertebrae. His legs were bent at the knees, ankles held down with rope looping through the holes in his ischium. The base of his spine and the general area of Sans’ pelvis were really sensitive. Considering rope  _ burns _ …

Sans let his body do it’s thing, allowing the heat to do whatever. He retreated back into his mind, thinking of the pout of your lips as you concentrated on tying knots in his rope.

-

You came early.

Sans knew this because he couldn’t stop himself from counting the days until you broke your promise and against everything he expected, you broke it early. From the moment you stepped into the hellhole, he knew. Sans couldn’t see you, couldn’t hear you but he could feel your pathetically kind soul, a major chord in a minor key. He could feel you getting closer, wanting to cuss and swear because why the hell were you taking so long? Walk faster, damnit you fucking asshole. 

“Good evening, Eddler.” You greeted the bitch, voice husky. She laughed like the summer breeze twining through a set of windchimes.   
“Enjoyed your time with Sansy here, did you?” The bitch hummed. Sans wanted to shove his hand up her ribcage and rip out her heart when she said his name. The suppressed spark of magic manifested itself into another shuddering fit.    
“Very much…” You replied. 

There was a shuffle of paper where Sans imagined you were passing the bitch your money. Then he felt a tug on his leash. He stumbled forward, knees weak from kneeling for so long. He probably would have fallen if you didn’t wrap a hand around the back of his neck, gripping him tight. Pleasant tingling spread outwards from your touch, even as the buzzing static of his surging magic intensified. Through the white noise, Sans could feel your concern, fear and worry. Stupid girl.

Sans staggered forward, guided by gentle tugs on his leash and your hand on the curve of his neck. At some random point, you stopped. Then he was swept off his feet again, carried flush against your chest as the world pitched sideways. You were murmuring something. He couldn’t make out what. It probably wasn’t important.

Nothing was more important than the deep ache plaguing the cradle of his pelvis. His dick was throbbing, begging to be touched. The world went white, too bright, too much. He blinked until the blur had faded from his vision and he could see your disgustingly worried little face. Your lips were moving, pink and wet. He was vaguely aware of squirming. You set him down onto the bed gently, carefully. He couldn’t help but feel insulted. He wasn’t fragile. Sans was lying down now, arms pinned between his back and the mattress. It was slightly uncomfortable but a little discomfort was nothing when you crawled in next to him and you were right  _ there _ . 

Sans wanted to touch you, to be touched by you and mark and fuck and hurt and claim and bite and thrust and… You were shaking him. You were saying something, framing his face with your hands. Sans concentrated.   
“...later, okay? I don’t wanna get scratched again. I promise I’ll take everything off after we’re done.”

Take everything off. Why yes, that was a good idea. Sans would like to see you with everything off. He had everything off. It wasn’t fair, was it?   
“No! Not like that!” You blushed, cheeks staining red. Sans wondered how flushed you would get if he fucked you into the mattress. Maybe your blood would rush all the way down your neck. Mmm, your blood. 

You were shaking him again. You were worried, he could feel it in your touch. This must be important.   
“Sans! Can you hear me, Sans? Are you okay?”   
Not important then. Still, he nodded. Your relief was palpable, Sans could feel it. The worry faded from your touch into nervousness.   
“I’m gonna start now, okay?” You licked your lips, shuffling down his body. Wha…?

You wrapped your lips around his hard cock and Chara could have chopped his head off right there and then and Sans would have dusted as a happy skeleton. Slowly, you took more and more of his length into your beautiful, hot, wet and soft mouth. Your tongue swirled and the rope around his wrists became a major inconvenience. He strained against the tension, needing to touch you back, hold you tight, eat you whole. His magic swarmed to a crescendo and the world was nothing but buzz. He thought he might be moaning past the gag but who knows? Certainly not him.

Amazing, fantastic suction milked his length before sliding off. Sans felt cold, voided, at a loss. You licked a stripe from his tip to his base but that was hardly enough, he needed more _ more _ **_more_ ** . A moment too long where nothing happened and Sans thought he might have been growling. Glaring down his body to see what was the hold up, Sans looked just in time to watch you engulf his entire length, his tip brushing the back of your throat. Absolute lust in it’s basest form lodged itself in the eye of his infernal heat. Sans shuddered, unable to tear his gaze away as you bobbed up and down, drool smearing against your cheeks. His breath came quick, rushing in and out of his chest cavity without rhythm. Toes curled involuntarily, eyes squeezed shut and Sans began bucking uncontrollably.

You pressed down on his hips with your (for a human) strong arms, keeping him from bucking into your mouth. They were useless against him but he tried his best to comply anyway. Your tongue did a fancy manoeuvre which had him jolting as your thumb rubbed circles into the wing of his hipbones and  _ shit _ , were you enjoying this? The thought alone made him fervent, and Sans whipped his head to the side, swallowing hard. His own drool dribbled past the tape, collecting wet on his jaw and chest. 

This was too much, too good. Sans wanted to tear you apart and keep you forever. He wasn’t going to last long. His rampant magic had begun to coil in his soul, building in pressure, building in intensity. The buzzing was so loud, Sans thought he might go deaf. You eased away from his base, pumping your fist where your mouth had left, his cock slick with your saliva. The edge of your nail nicked him slightly and the small amount of pain made the pleasure that much better. Sans cried out, imagining the things he would do if his hands were free. Oh, he’d rake his claws down your back and lap up the red, the substance that gave you life. He’d pin you against the wall and fuck you senseless, he wouldn’t stop even after he came the first time. He’d force you down on your knees and cum again and again and again because shit, you'd feel so  _ good _ .

Sans felt like he was on the precipice of something amazing, cold and hot and soft and sparking, he panted. You hummed a low note as though satisfied and the vibrations ran shocks from his dick, dancing all the way up his spine. The pleasure settled in his skull and occupied the space there, pushing out anything irrelevant to the feel of your mouth. You kept this up for some time, alternating between delicious suction and that ridiculously good thing you did with your tongue. The world faded away, reality consisting only of the intense pleasure gripping his bones, building in his non-existent stomach and buzzing impatient magic at the tips of his toes.

Your talented little tongue slithered against his cock. You pulled back to suck only the tip, tongue wriggling into his slit and that was it. That was that. The fucking end. His magic sprung free, snapping hard with recoil, rolling wave after wave after wave of pleasure through him and Sans was the sand castle at the edge of the water, losing form and coherence and disassembling and crumbling away into nothing. Nothing but peaceful bliss, utter ecstasy and soothing darkness.

Sans stayed in the quiet dark for a while, away from the incessant buzzing of his magic in heat, away from his poor decisions and life’s unfairness. But he felt you, distantly. You were worried, nervous, guilty even. Tch, stupid girl. Green souls are pathetic.

Seriously. There was something wrong with you. No one in their right mind would see a scary monster, have said monster attack them, then come running back. He didn’t need you to play white knight for him. Sans wasn’t a goddamn damsel. He had handled himself by himself so far, he can manage the rest of his life alone thank you very much. This world was harsh and cruel, beating down against every miserable life form. You were gonna get yourself killed, or worse. It wasn’t hard at all to conjure the mental image of you dying one hundred and one ways, all because you had to be kind. Fuck, you were like the kiddo. Only, they had died a thousand and one ways and came back a thousand and two. You had no such luck of forcing the shattered remains of your soul back together. You’d die once and come back none.

The thought pissed him the hell off. 

You were stupid for coming back, idiotic for returning. Sans hated that you came back. Maybe if he ignored you, you’d stop. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted you to stop.

It took some effort, but Sans managed to pull himself back into consciousness. His heat slammed back into him, although it had been sated for the time being. You were beside him, hovering anxiously over his form. A smear of his cum trickled from the side of your mouth. Oh fucking stars, had you  _ swallowed _ ?

“Are you alright?” You asked, head tilted slightly to the left. Honestly, how dumb can you get? “I’m gonna take the tape off first.”   
Your little fingers scraped at his jaw, seeking out the edge of the duct tape. Sans closed his eyes, body feeling as though he were a Moldsmal, made of jelly rather than bones. He was still shivering every now and then. Damn, get it together man.

Sans focused on regulating his breath, managing to get it back to almost normal by the time you had peeled off the rest of the tape. He stretched his jaw, testing his range of movement. You raised the edge of the blanket to his mouth and Sans wouldn’t help but sneer challengingly. The fuck are you gonna do with that? Not like you could smother him or anything. 

You dabbed the cloth at his mandible, wiping the drool away. Your touch was kind and gentle. This was so much worse.

Sans ached. It felt different.   
“Okay, sit up.” You said when you were done, helping to push him upright with a hand between his shoulder blades. You worked on the knot securing his arms behind him, mouth pouted just so. You didn’t even look up at him or flinch backwards when he snarled in frustration. That made him so much angrier.   
“We’re in a tough situation.” You said, tone all business even as you picked at the knot of rope holding him captive. “Some stuff cropped up that complicates things and I can’t get you out today.”   
Wait, were you planning on breaking him out right now? Huh, you really were serious about this. Hope had always been a smudge on the horizon, he didn’t expect things to be going so quickly. It had always been something that forced him to wait, and wait, and wait. Something that prolonged the suffering when it was so much easier and merciful to just give up. He didn’t understand why people always saw hope as a good thing. Hope was cruel.

You didn’t notice him freezing, picking the rope out from between his bones. Your nimble fingers rubbed at the space between his left radius and ulna, prompting warmth to ripple out from the contact. Shit, that felt good.

“I’ll keep working on it but I promise it won’t be long.” You continued. There it was again. You promised. Again and again, you threw out promises like snowflakes from the sky. It was as if your promises held no weight, no value. How can they, when they’re given out so freely? Why should he believe you when you just toss them around so casually?!

Either your promises are paper thin, or you bared your soul to the world. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

The rarer something is, the more value it holds. So why is it then that Sans could feel himself latching onto your ‘promise’? Your worthless spouting of pretty words made something in his bones stir, a quiet call to endure just a little more. Sans didn’t want to endure anymore. He wanted to sink back into apathy, retreat to the back alleys of his mind where he could ignore reality without really giving in and proving his worthlessness. He wanted to so badly, but he couldn’t. Not after you. 

He hated it. He hated that you kept forcing hope down his soul.

“ya shouldn’t ‘av come back.” You weren’t stopping and Sans snapped, tugging impatiently at his bonds. You encircled your fingers around his wrists like a whisper, forcing him to stop. Your soft touch was heavier than any blow might have been.   
“But I promised.” You replied.   
“do i look like i care bout ya wishy-washy promises?”   
“...No.”   
~~(yes…?)~~   
**(** **no.** **)**

This needed to stop. Sans was tired, he made his choice. He didn’t need some bitch changing everything or trying to ‘fix’ him. Sans didn’t care about that, he stopped caring long ago. He was tired. You needed to go.   
“listen, doll.” Sans drawled disdainfully, “i don’t need ya help, i don’t want ya help and the only thing i want from ya is to get outta my life.”   
“Sans, please I--”   
“no! don’t cha get it? ‘y can’t help me. ya think ya can save everyone but’cha can’t. ‘y think you’re helping me? da only thing ya doin is makin things  _ worse. _ ”

Sans almost regretted it when your bottom lip trembled in the stunned silence that followed. Almost. He wanted you to leave, run out of the room and slam the door behind you. He wanted you to yell back, to spit and hit. He wanted you to just take advantage of him already. He wanted you to never return.

You bit your trembling lip, hard, and fixed him with an icy glare. Then you grabbed him by the dangle of his leash and yanked hard. You pulled him right up to the tip of your nose and glared straight into his eyes. He felt like you could see his soul.   
“I’m not giving up on you.” You hissed between clenched teeth and the look in your eyes made him afraid.

Raw determination. Blazing like an inferno and more than unstoppable. He’d seen that look before, seen it on Frisk when they’d bring an entire race to their knees, seen it when they’d return from the dead by bending reality to their will, seen it when they’d slash across his soul, shattering him from who he is, was and ever might be; granting him release.   
And now, you wore determination like a cape. He could see it searing in the lines of your face and the way you squared your shoulders. It crashed into him like a rug out from under his feet and woooooh boy, Sans knew.

Sans knew he was fucked.

*** SANS ATK 1 DEF 1** **  
** ***0.3/1 HP** **  
** ***He doesn’t know why he’s relieved.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYA SINNERS! It's Trin.  
> Find me on...  
> tumblr: @infintrinx  
> insta: @infinitrinx  
> snapchat: @infinitrinxx  
> facebook: Trinity Fay (cosplay stuff)
> 
> Comment, Kudos, Share if ya enjoy going to hell! <3


	3. My Hands Are Tied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character relationship development YAAAAS BIJ YAAAAAAAAAS  
> WOAH hey kid, dont be misled by the title its not what you think ya sinner

All the department had to offer you was red tape, paperwork and excuses. You’d considered all the possible arguments the higher ups might bring up, pondered each counter-argument and more. It didn’t take long to exhaust the possible scenarios. Afterall, one can only think so much before their thoughts become repetitive. You’ve always thought it best to catch yourself before you fell into that cycle. God knows once you spiral downwards, the only way to stop is kicking off the bottom.

You can’t afford to get lost in the orbit of your own thoughts, not when other people were at stake. Besides, you’ve always believed in acting over excessive waiting.

“Sir?” You had asked, two days after you first met Sans.   
“At ease.”   
“I have my report. I have a lead on the chain of ring leaders basing with Yan. I request permission to perform a raid.”   
Senior Officer Woods had set down his coffee cup, the cup painting a ring of brown onto the paperwork unfortunate enough to be scattered on his desk.   
“Respectfully, officer. You were assigned Yan just last month. Officers many years your senior have been unable to trace evidence back to that slippery bastard, what makes you think you can do it so easily?” Woods said, steepling his fingers to his lips.

“A-actually, sir. This isn’t about Yan. I’ve identified other prominent offenders in the establishment which I believe require our immediate attention.”   
“Officer, your mission on this case is to find links to Yan, not wrangle lower class offenders. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than going after the small catches.”   
“I understand that, sir. But there are victims we cannot ignore.”

Woods sighed.   
“I know. And it is a terrible thing, but sometimes, people have to be sacrificed for the greater good--”   
“Sir, these--”   
“Don’t interrupt me, cadet. Yan is our main priority. If he continues to go unchecked, more people would get hurt. We cannot allow him to slip back under the radar.”

Act first, think later.   
“Sir. When I procure evidence against Yan, may I request permission to perform an immediate search and seize?”   
“Permission granted. On the condition you report back to me before beginning protocol.”   
“Understood, sir.”   
“Dismissed.”

-

You limped home, eye smarting and lip busted open.   
All in a day’s work.   
Yan was going down. You were gonna get them out, get them all out.

You dialed Officer Wood’s number. It was 3am but the man was probably awake. He usually was.   
“Sir…”

“Good job, cadet. Permission granted.”

-

“Cadet. Postpone Operation Crossbones. Chief Micker needs to talk to you about the case.”

-

“Cadet, I understand you have been working very hard on this operation. First of all, I would like express my gratitude for all your efforts.”   
“Thank you, madam.”   
“Secondly, I’d like you to understand the… delicacy of the situation.”   
“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, madam.”   
“As I’m sure you are aware, there is a monster working at Yan’s. During your operation, you nor any of your unit are to interact with it. Your--”   
“With all due respect, madam! I strongly oppose against this decision, I--”   


The sharp cheeked woman raised her brows questioningly. Her stare made you feel like a dog with her tail between her legs.   
“Know your place, cadet. The decision is not yours to make.”   


“W-with all due respect, madam, I do not understand...”   
“I do not have to explain myself to you. Now, I believe you have duties to attend to. Dismissed.”

-

Don’t interact, your ass.   
You strut into Yan’s hole in the wall (Ok, that was a lie, the place was pretty nice.) that weekend.  **No one** was getting left behind.   
“Good evening, Eddler.” You purred. Sans looked even worse for wear, struggling weakly against his bonds as he leaned in your direction. What looked like cigarette burns littered the top of his skull. Anger laced it’s hands with yours into a fist. The witch tinkled a deceivingly pleasing laugh.

“Enjoy your time with Sansy here, did you?” Eddler grinned, the edge of her red, red lips quirked. Said skeleton had a shuddering fit at your feet, red tinted bones rattling. Stuttering whimpers leaked through the tape.

Fuck Eddler, fuck the department, fuck  **anyone** who might stop you. You weren’t going to leave him behind. It was your job, no more than that, your life purpose to help anyone who may need it. You knew this like you knew the sky was blue, that snow was cold, that people are inherently good; just jaded and hurt. Joining the police force was merely a conduit for your efforts. You weren’t going to leave him behind.

Somehow, you felt betrayed. You never pinned Ebott’s police force to be discrimatory until now. To hell with the system if it meant excluding others just because they’re different. You were gonna do things your way.  
“Very much…” You replied, matching Eddler’s grin with your own, even throwing in a wink for good measure.

-

You meant what you promised to yourself; fuck anyone who might stop you from saving everyone. You just never thought that list would include Sans himself, nor the unintentional note of irony of the phrasing.   
The point stood. You were not leaving him here and you told him as such.

“why are ya still ‘ere?” Sans mumbled from the opposite end of the bed where you had pushed him to after you grabbed him by the collar and said your piece. He sat with his knees pulled into his chest, red, red eyes accusing. You knew it wasn’t his fault. Cases like his were the hardest.

To him, you were a stranger, a human, an enemy. Sans didn’t know you, he had no reason to trust you. You can’t begin to imagine the hell he’s been through, but you know it would be more than enough to demolish his ability to trust easily. It’s been years for you and even now you can’t… not without thinking of…

You shouldn’t lash out. Sans has been through enough as it is.   
“what, ya deaf now?”   
“You came in thirty minutes, Boneboy. Can’t leave that quickly.” You said, throwing him a smirk.The red blush returned to the ivory of Sans’ bones, except this time, he scowled rather than shook, showing off his impressive row of teeth.

“it hasn’t been thirty minutes.”   
“I’m pretty sure it has. I checked my phone.”   
“liar.”   
“I’m not lying! Here look, you can look for yourself.”

You held up the screen of your phone to Sans, showing him the time on your lockscreen. His frown deepened, red crawling all the way down his neck. The lights in his eyes shrank. With a clank, Sans slapped the palm of his hand to his face, mumbling obscenities into it.   
“... ridiculous… can’t believe… fucking pathetic…”

Oh, men and their pride. You couldn’t help but laugh. Sans’ scowl somehow deepened, face resembling a cherry.   
You looked down at your phone, unlocking it to fiddle idly with a game.  
“shut the fuck up! stop laughing, ya cunt. I’ll kill ya, i swear. stop it! i hate ya, i hate ya so much.”   
Despite the threats, you continued to snicker. Sans fumed in his corner arms crossed against his chest. The steady tap, tap, tap of his fingertips drumming against the bone of his forearm drew your attention.    


Sans was clawless again, the tips of his phalanges white and smooth. His radius and ulna appeared thick and sturdy, definitely inhuman. In fact, Sans’ entire frame was built different from a human skeleton, similar, but different. How was he held together? He definitely didn’t have tendons or cartilage.

The answer was probably magic. You didn’t know much about monsters or magic, except that it was fucking weird. Your thoughts took an explicit turn to the taste of Sans’ dick on your tongue. Or rather, the lack of taste. He wasn’t musky or sweet or salty or anything really. But somehow, he still lingered on your tongue, as a feeling, a ghost sensation rather than an aftertaste. He was electrifying, like the hum of static, cold and warm all at once. Maybe that was what magic felt like. It was definitely magic when his dick faded from existence after he came. Now that was really fucking weird.

“whaddaya lookin at?” Sans snapped. Shit you’ve been staring at him.  
“Nothin.” You shrugged, staring harder at the screen of your phone. It buzzed with a  notification and you took your time scrolling through social media. Sans shuffled in his corner of the bed.

You looked up at him. Sans was staring at his feet, knees tucked under his chin. His fingers went tap, tap, tap against the opposite radius. Anxious.   
Why?  
Insecure body posture; shy? Embarrassed?  
You thought back, if you did anything wrong, carefully looking over his bare frame.

Oh. You’re an idiot.

There wasn’t a blanket in the room (it was meant for shagging not sleeping) so you shrugged off your outer jacket, awkwardly shimmying over to Sans on your knees. He jolted upright, claws extending.  
“hey, whaddaya-”  
You draped your jacket over his shoulders, retreating just as quickly. Sans shrank away from you nonetheless.  
“what are ya…?”

“You're welcome.” You said pointedly. Sans looked away.  
“you should stop.”  
“Nah.”  
Sans shook his head, a frustrated huff springing through his teeth.  
“fuckin stupid.” he snarled, drawing your jacket tighter around him. 

Sans unfurled slightly, letting his knees unlock. The rapping of bone on bone suddenly stopped. He caught your gaze straight on.  
“stop starin at me.”  
Fuck.  
“Sorry.” You blushed, looking back down at your phone. The screen had been auto locked  
“what’s with ya?”  
“Sorry.” You repeated, casting around for an excuse. “You’re just interesting.”  
“interestin?”

You bashfully stole a glance at Sans. He scratched at his neck under the collar he wore.  
“m’ interestin?”  
“Well yeah, you’re a magical skeleton.” You answered honestly, flipping your phone around and around in your palm. Nervous tick. Stop.

“eh.” Sans held up his hand, flexing it. His claws extended and retracted, seeming to disappear into the bone.  
“That’s really cool.”  
“my hand’s cool?” Sans looked at you weirdly.  
“No. Well, yeah. But your claws are especially cool.”  
Sans shrugged.

The sharp tips of his claws slid into the ivory, sounding exactly like what you imagine Wolverine’s wicked claws might. They weren’t like a cat’s claws, there was no muscle or tendons to pulley the bone. How the hell did they work? The unsatisfactory answer would probably be magic. They were so cool. Should you ask? How awkward.  
“Can I see them?”  
“what?”  
“Can I see your claws?”  
“uh…”

Sans cautiously held his hand out towards you, looking at you very strangely. You shuffled closer, taking his hand in yours. The bone felt warm against your skin, humming with contained magical energy. You held Sans’ hand close to your face, curiously prodding and thumbing each little segmented part. At his fingertip, you tugged lightly watching the space between the bones where tendons and muscles might have been grow slightly larger before you met resistance and could pull no further.

You pressed the pad of your index finger to the point of his claw, stopping short just as it started to hurt then pressing slightly further. A sharp prick jerked your hand away involuntarily. Sans snapped back just as fast, claws disappearing into his fingertips. A drop of blood welled on the pad of your index finger. You stuck it into your mouth, suckling on the wound.

“you humans are so fragile.” Sans crossed his arms over his chest, leaning away from you.  
“Wait, wait. I wasn't done.” You half asked for permission, reaching for Sans’ hand. He didn’t resist, but he didn't comply either. His claws were sheathed.

“Bring them out, please.” You hummed, feeling the smooth surface of his phalanges. Sans levelled you a look, hesitating.   
“don't hurt yaself.” Sans said as he allowed his claws to emerge.  
Tracing the bone, you turned his hand over, trying to find the base of the claw where it retracted into.

Peeking into the spaces between each bone, you could see the rest of Sans’ body. The cradle of his hips were bare marble white except for the faintest red glow concentrated at his crotch. Sans cleared his throat. Heat flooded your cheeks the same time you snatched your eyes away. Sans let out a soft growl and you couldn't stop your wandering gaze from falling onto him. Unbidden, your eyes flickered down to the glow before you stopped yourself and decided to inspect the nearby wall. 

Sans quietened for a moment. The wall was fairly interesting, roughly textured and painted a yellowing cream. There were scratches where the paint had been completely chipped off to reveal the grey concrete behind. The scratches ran in straight lines parallel to the floor, probably caused by the bouncing bed frame during the many rounds of sex this room has seen.  
Dear god, your face was still red.

“just ask.” Sans was suddenly hovering over your shoulder, voice low in your ear. The fabric of your own jacket brushed against your bare arm. You spun around to face him, putting some distance between you in the process.  
“What?”  
“ya curious bout me.” the corner of his smile tugged upwards in a smirk, “ask.”

The edge of your sweater hung over his hips but you couldn't help but look anyways. Sans crossed his arms, leaning back smugly. No, this was intrusive. You can’t just ask someone about their…

“say it. ”  
“Where…” Oh god this is the weirdest most embarrassing most invasive thing in the world. What the hell is life? You felt heat practically radiating off your cheeks. 

“go on. ya not suddenly stupid are ya?” Sans egged. His eyes were shining.  
“How does… W-where did, uh…”

Sans snorted, propping his chin onto the palm of his hand.  
“can’t hear ya, speak up.”  
You buried your flaming cheeks into your hands, looking away.  
“Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

Sans shuffled closer, leaning towards you.  
“aw c’mon. i said i dun mind. ya suddenly a coward or somethin?”  
“No, no. I’m sorry forget it.”  
“well, since ya incapable all of a sudden, guess i'll hafta help. repeat after me.”

He cleared his throat.  
“sans…”  
“...”  
The monster nudged you slightly too hard. You were going to combust and die right there. Death by embarrassment. This was the end.  
“...Sans…” you murmured between your fingers.  
“where…”  
“Where.”  
“did ya dick go?”

NOPE. Nope, nope, nope, you're not going to say that ever in the entire existence of time and space. You were going to die right there and then, let embarrassment crush you like an entire satellite crashing down to earth on top of you. You buried your flaming face into the mattress and whined.

Sans laughed. A small snicker erupting to a crescendo of full body wracking laughter. Fuck that guy.  
Oh, uh. Not like that. Although you did. Have. Will. With his disappearing penis.

You pressed your face further into the material. Death. Dying. Suffering. Agony.  
“Well?” You asserted. The damage was done, might as well get an answer.   
“magic.” Sans shrugged.  
How unsatisfactory. 

-

“Ok this sounds weird but I need you to bite me.”  
“w-what?” Sans sputtered, sockets widening.  
“We’re having rough sex remember? And you always bite when given the chance.”

You leaned down, exposing the juncture of your neck, resting your hand against Sans’ boney shoulder. Sans gulped before meeting you halfway, grazing his razor teeth on your flesh. The sensation sent tingles up your spine.  
“this’ll hurt.” was the only warning you got before Sans clamped down. Sharp pain tensed every muscle you had, gripping Sans’ shoulder tightly. You closed your eyes, trying to breath through the sensation. 

You felt blood beginning to trickle down your shoulder and Sans pulled away. He took a long look at the bleeding wound before facing the door, expressionless.  
“Okay, let’s go.” You said, slipping the blindfold over Sans’ eyes.

One hand on his shoulder, you reached for the knob.  
“I’ll see you soon.”  
“when?”  
“As soon as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYA SINNERS! It's Trin.  
> I'm so sorry I haven't been active. I've been super busy with my cosplay, photography and work. 
> 
> ON THE YAS SIDE, TAKE A LOOK AT MY UF!SNAS INSPIRED LOOK and i'm gonna do both UT and UF snas cosplay too!  
> 
> 
> Find me on...  
> tumblr: @infintrinx  
> insta: @infinitrinx  
> snapchat: @infinitrinxx  
> facebook: Trinity Fay (cosplay stuff)
> 
> Comment, Kudos, Share ily! <3


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